


I Do

by deathbybellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Love/Hate, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbybellarke/pseuds/deathbybellarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Bellamy knew each other when they were kids, but after sixteen years apart, they don’t remember each other. When Clarke moves in with Octavia and meets Bellamy again, they’re water and oil from day one. What happens when they find out they’ve been best friends before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do

**Author's Note:**

> We're deathbybellarke over on tumblr! Check us out. Hope you enjoy this complete and total piece of fluffy goodness.

_Clarke—5 years old//Bellamy—7 years old_

Clarke thought lunch that day was never going to end. She only needed five minutes to devour her PB &J, not 30. Recess was all that was on her mind—recess and her best friend, Bellamy. He was older, so they weren’t in the same class. She had a major proposition for him that day, and lunchtime was the only thing in her way.

As soon as her teacher signaled the class could get up and go outside, Clarke bolted for the door. As per usual, Bellamy was waiting for her by the swings. He knew they were her favorite.

After a few turns on the swing set, she decided it was time. 

“I think we should get married,” Clarke said. “Right now.”

“Why?” Bellamy asked. 

“I asked my mommy and daddy what being married means, and they said it means they’ll protect each other and that they’re best friends,” she said. “And that’s like us.” 

Clarke and Bellamy’s playground friendship was forged of iron, born from one too many mean boys tugging on her braid and an older boy making fun of Bellamy for not knowing his dad. Bellamy had gotten in major trouble for pushing the jerk that’d messed with Clarke. She’d gotten into trouble too for kicking the boy who’d made fun of Bellamy. 

“I guess so,” Bellamy said. 

“I’m gonna pick some flowers. You find somebody to marry us,” Clarke said. 

The two met back up at the swing set, Clarke clutching a handful of dandelions and Bellamy pulling his teacher by the hand. 

“Clarke, Bellamy tells me you two are getting married,” Ms. Thompson said. 

“Yep. We’re best friends, and best friends get married,” Clarke answered. 

“That’s certainly true sometimes,” the teacher said, nodding. 

“ ‘Cept I don’t know what we have to say,” Clarke admitted. 

“That’s okay. I know that part. You two stand next to each other, and repeat after me,” Ms. Thompson said. 

Bellamy stood beside Clarke and held her hand. 

“Okay, Bellamy, do you promise to be Clarke’s best friend, always help her and be kind to her?” 

“Yes,” the little boy said. 

“And Clarke, do you promise to be Bellamy’s best friend, always help him and be kind to him?” 

“I do,” she said. “You’re supposed to say that, right?” 

“You can,” Ms. Thompson said, laughing. “Now pinky promise, and you’ll be married.” 

Clarke and Bellamy turned to face each other. She looked up at him with his wild, curly dark hair and freckles. Her hair was in her trademark braid, and she smiled a toothy grin—albeit one of the front ones was missing. 

“Pinky promise?” Bellamy said as he raised his hand up to her. 

Clarke locked their pinkies together, and Ms. Thompson snapped a picture of them in that moment. 

She gave them both a copy of the picture on Bellamy’s last day of school, knowing the two were much sadder than they let on. His mom got a job in a different city, which meant he was moving away.

Clarke carried the picture with her to recess for weeks, folded up in her pocket. Every time she took a turn on the swings, she closed her eyes and pretended Bellamy wasn’t gone. She had other friends in her class, but it wasn’t the same. 

She cried the day the boy who pulled her braid took it from her and ripped it in to several pieces. She chased them as they blew across the pebbles of the playground. She couldn’t catch them, and the wind carried them away. 

The next morning, she asked her mother to stop braiding her hair. At recess she started playing with a boy in her class, Wells. He wasn’t Bellamy, but he was a good friend. 

Though she never asked Wells to marry her.

  
_Sixteen Years Later_

Clarke had navigated the rest of her grade-school career with Wells Jaha by her side until they parted for college. He stayed in their hometown, while she moved to attend Ark University. She was a graphic design major, and she thrived around her creative classmates. During her sophomore year, she met a freshman in one of her classes named Octavia. By the end of the year, they decided to get an apartment together in the fall. 

Moving out of the dorms and into an apartment was a godsend for Clarke, but it was also a massive wake-up call. She had _a lot_ of shit. 

“Octavia, where is the box with the dishes in it?” Clarke called from the kitchen. 

They were unpacking pretty slowly, but Clarke needed to find a bowl to pour some cereal into or she was going to set the place on fire. 

“I think it’s by the couch!” Octavia called from the bathroom where she was hanging up their shower curtain. 

Clarke had to step over the pieces of a bookcase they had yet to finish building to get to the box, but she eventually wrestled it into the kitchen. She pulled out the first bowl she got her hands on, poured her cereal, and hopped up to sit on the counter to eat. 

“I called my brother to come fix this mess of a bookshelf. He’s on his way,” Octavia said as she entered the kitchen. She extracted another bowl from the box of dishes and followed Clarke’s lead. 

“Fuck IKEA,” Clarke mumbled around a bite of cereal. 

“Cheers to that,” Octavia said. She clinked her bowl against Clarke’s before digging her spoon into its contents. 

Clarke placed her bowl in the sink once she was done and picked a cabinet to put the rest of the dishes away in. As she did so, there was a knock at the door. 

Octavia hopped off the counter to open the door. 

“Hey, Bel,” she said. 

“Hey, O,” he said as she let him in. 

“Bel, this is my roommate, Clarke,” Octavia said. “Clarke, this is my brother, Bellamy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Clarke said. 

“Where’s this bookshelf?” he said. 

She knew he was busy, being a first-year law student and all. Octavia had told her that he often let pleasantries fall to the side these days in favor of efficiency. Even so, she bristled at him ignoring her.

Octavia gestured to the mess of shelves and screws littered across the floor. Bellamy knelt down and picked up the instructions. 

Clarke unpacked some more of their things for the kitchen, nestling the coffee pot underneath the cabinet with the mugs in it. 

Eventually, Clarke looked into the living room and there was a bookcase standing against the wall. Bellamy was standing in front of it, surveying his work. 

“That looks great,” she said. “Thank you, Bellamy.” 

He glanced at her and shrugged. He quickly apologized to Octavia, saying he couldn’t stay, that he needed to get to the library. He promised he’d come back soon for dinner. 

Clarke wasn’t sure why he was so offended that he had hardly uttered a word to her. She only knew that her first impression of him was not a good one. That impression didn’t improve with time. 

The first couple of months of the semester passed, and Clarke realized Octavia hadn’t been kidding when she said she and her brother were close. He dropped by all the time, bringing Octavia leftovers and checking on her. Octavia said he’d practically raised her and that old habits died hard. 

Interactions between Clarke and Bellamy blossomed from nearly nonexistent to snippy and heated. They bickered whenever he came over. On one occasion, they got into it during dinner over Lincoln, Octavia’s new boyfriend who she’d kept a secret from Bellamy. 

“You knew my sister was hanging out with some older guy and didn’t think you should tell me?” Bellamy asked. 

“It’s her business,” Clarke said. “And I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself.” 

“What if something had happened? I wouldn’t have known where to find her all those times she was out with him!” 

“Your problem is with Octavia, not me,” she said. “I don’t understand why it’s so horrible that I kept my roommate’s secret. It’s not like you and I are friends.” 

“Believe me—I know we aren’t friends,” he said. “But I thought some level of trust existed here.” 

“The one with the trust issue here is you. You don’t trust me to be able to have Octavia’s back,” Clarke said. “None of this matters anyway. Lincoln is a great guy.” 

“You’ve _met_ him too?” 

“Guys, shut up!” Octavia said, bursting to life from where she’d been quietly winding spaghetti noodles around her fork. “Bellamy, this over-protective brother thing is sweet because I know it’s coming from a place of love. Hear me when I say this, though, it has to stop. You don’t realize how much you sound like a jackass when you get this way.” 

“O, I’m sorry. I just…what if something happened?” 

“Clarke would’ve known where to find me. Every time I’ve gone out with him, she’s known exactly where I was. I always know where she is when she leaves too. That’s what roommates do.” 

“Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?” 

“Because every time I start dating someone, you want to give them the third-degree burn,” Octavia said. 

“That’s the last thing the early stages of a relationship needs—the older brother trying to out-man the guy and scaring him away,” Clarke said. 

“Listen, princess, didn’t you say this wasn’t your business?” Bellamy snapped. 

“It’s my business if my roommate’s brother who is over here all the damn time is being a douchemonster,” Clarke said. “It’s not my business to alert aforementioned douchemonster when his sister has a date like it’s 1950.” 

Clarke excused herself from the table after that, quickly shutting herself in her room. Bellamy hastily apologized later after he’d smoothed things out with Octavia. That was the first and last time Clarke ever tried to participate in a Blake sibling fight. 

One night, Bellamy came bearing dessert. He wasn’t drowning in casework that week, so he stayed for a while after dinner. 

In all the time Clarke had grown to hate his proud, annoying guts, she was not immune to his good looks. She took in the way he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows and the way his jeans fit perfectly. It drove her nuts that he looked like he did. Sometimes she wondered if she wouldn’t find his whole personality very charming under different circumstances. 

“See something you like, princess?” Bellamy said. 

Clarke snapped out of her trance, her cheeks blushing because she had been caught staring.

“Not when you’re here,” she said, injecting every ounce of sweetness she could muster into her voice. 

“Bellamy, look what I found,” Octavia said, carrying a photo album into the living room. She plopped down on the couch beside him and opened it up. 

“Wow, look at you,” Bellamy said, as they started flipping through the pages. 

“Right? This was in my box of sweaters for some reason. I just unpacked it yesterday,” Octavia said. 

The Blake siblings laughed as they perused a few more pages of the photo album. For what sounded like a tough childhood, there was a lot of love there too. 

“Who is this?” Octavia sang, pointing to something in the album. 

“I don’t remember her name, but we were friends at my first elementary school,” Bellamy said. “You hadn’t started kindergarten yet.” 

“She’s cute,” Octavia said, laughing. 

“I’m pretty sure we were pretending to get married,” Bellamy said. 

“Clarke, look at how cute this is,” Octavia said. 

She passed Clarke the photo album and pointed to the specific picture. Clarke studied it for a moment, her jaw going slack. 

The little girl in the picture was shorter than Bellamy, younger. She was wearing her long blonde hair in a single braid. Clarke stared at the picture for a long moment; she couldn’t believe it could possibly be real. 

“That’s…me,” she said. 

“WHAT?” Octavia screeched. She erupted into a fit of giggles, and Clarke felt the blush return to her cheeks. 

“Oh my god… _Bellamy Blake_ ,” Clarke said, the memory burning clearly in her mind as the day she’d lost her own copy of the photo. 

“We’re _**married**_??” Bellamy said. 

Clarke looked up at him. They were both wearing looks of panic and disgust, far too real to be in reference to something they’d done when they were kids. 

“We’ve got to get divorced right now,” Clarke said. 

Bellamy’s face softened as he stared at her, and a genuine smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“But you pinky promised to be my best friend,” he said. 

“And you pinky promised to always be kind to me, and I’m pretty sure you broke that vow.” 

Octavia was thoroughly enjoying every second of this, hardly able to sit still as Clarke and Bellamy went back and forth. Clarke could practically see Octavia’s mental list of people to relay this news too as soon as possible. 

“Do you remember that kid, Finn?” Clarke asked. 

“The one who always picked on you? Yeah,” Bellamy said. 

“He ripped up my copy of this picture,” Clarke said. 

“What a complete tool,” Bellamy said, shaking his head. 

“I dated him for a while in high school,” Clarke said. 

“You have got to be kidding me. He was so mean to you,” Bellamy said. 

“We were 5 then,” Clarke said. “I had a long time to forgive and forget.” 

“I can’t believe you cheated on me with that guy,” Bellamy said, cracking a smile. 

“Why did you keep this all these years?” Clarke asked. 

“I guess my mom put it in the album,” Bellamy said. “I haven’t seen this in forever.” 

“I haven’t thought about… _you_ in a damn long time,” Clarke said. 

“And here we thought we hated each other, princess.” 

Clarke didn’t know that hate was quite was she felt when she looked at Bellamy anymore, and maybe that wasn’t ever what she felt. She’d been convinced he hung the moon once upon a time. 

“We’d be so disappointed that we ended up here,” Clarke said. 

Feeling some sense of duty to their past selves, they let up on each other after that. They skirted closer and closer to something resembling friendship. It wasn’t even _that_ weird the first time they hung out on purpose without Octavia. 

Bellamy brought over a six-pack of Clarke’s favorite beer, and she liked that he knew what her favorite beer was. She ordered pizza without needing to ask what he wanted, half pepperoni for her and half pineapple for him. 

They didn’t argue that much about what movie to watch. Bellamy quickly gave in to Clarke’s choice of _TiMER_. 

“I don’t know if I’d want to know that kind of thing,” Bellamy said midway through the movie. 

“I would hope yours would be zeroed out since you’re a married man and all,” Clarke said. 

Bellamy laughed, and Clarke couldn’t deny that it felt good to be the source of his happiness. 

Octavia was getting serious with her boyfriend, Lincoln, so Clarke and Bellamy hanging out became a regular thing. Clarke didn’t miss how much Octavia lived for it, but she kept it close that she really enjoyed Bellamy’s company. 

The semester wore on, and soon Christmas break was fast approaching. Clarke was out buying presents to take home with her. She also picked up a candle and a gift card to Sephora for Octavia. She decided she’d get Bellamy something small too—it didn’t mean anything, she told herself. _He might get me something, and besides we’re…friends now or whatever._

She thought about what he might like and decided on a book on Greek mythology and a nice scarf. He’d gotten a cold a couple of weeks before, and Clarke insisted it was because he didn’t dress warmly enough. 

They had plans that night to watch _Home Alone_ , so Clarke wrapped his presents as soon as she got back to the apartment. She put them under the small Christmas tree she and Octavia had in the living room. 

When Bellamy got there that night, Clarke was nervous. She’d spent the afternoon convincing herself it was kind of weird she’d bought him presents. She opened the door, and Bellamy was standing there looking too good in a cable-knit sweater. He had one hand behind his back.  
“Hey, princess,” he said.

“What are you hiding?” Clarke asked. 

Bellamy pulled a poinsettia from behind his back and handed it to her. 

“Merry Christmas,” he said. “I got you something else too.” 

Bellamy waved a small, neatly wrapped packed in his other hand. 

“Your presents are under the tree,” Clarke said. 

She turned to put the poinsettia on the kitchen counter and breathed a sigh of relief. If it was weird that they were exchanging gifts, at least she wasn’t being weird on her own. 

“Do you want to open presents now?” Bellamy said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Something in his eyes, excitement maybe, made him look younger. She could see the little boy she’d once known there in his face.

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a warm glow over the living room, and it struck Clarke as romantic. Her stomach fluttered. 

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” she said. She picked up his presents and they sat down on the couch side-by-side. 

She handed him the two presents and took hers from him. 

“You go first,” she said. 

Bellamy pulled the tissue paper from the bag containing his scarf and peeked inside. He pulled the scarf from the back and laughed as he did so. 

“Point taken about my wardrobe. Thank you.” 

“Open the other one,” Clarke said. She was suddenly nervous he wouldn’t like the book or that he’d already read it. 

He tore the paper away to reveal the cover, and his smile softened. He met her gaze and shook his head. 

“Do you hate it?” Clarke bit her lip. 

“This is my favorite book,” Bellamy said. “My copy is worn to hell. Thank you, Clarke.”

“I can return it if you don’t need a new copy. It’s really fine,” she said, the words tumbling out in one nervous jumble. 

“No,, it’s great. I can tell you really put thought into this,” he said. “Speaking of which, how about you open your present?”

Clarke tugged at the ribbon around the box and lifted the lid. Nestled inside the box was a pair of small dangly earrings with Van Gogh’s “Irises” printed on the small discs. 

“I noticed you had a print of it, so,” Bellamy said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Clarke sat the box on the coffee table and threw her arms around Bellamy. It took a moment for him to react, but he wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly. 

“Thank you,” she said as she extracted herself from his arms. Though she could’ve stayed there all night if she was being honest. She couldn’t be sure if she saw disappointment flash across his face as he let her go. 

“I did what any good husband would do,” Bellamy said. 

They both laughed. 

“I don’t think we’d be disappointed in us now,” he said. 

Clarke gasped dramatically and pretended like she might start crying. 

“Bellamy Blake, do you mean to say I’m your best friend?” Clarke said. 

Bellamy stared back at her, and he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. His fingertips brushing her cheek sent a shiver down her spine. 

Her eyelids fluttered shut as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips on hers were soft. After a moment, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers with a breathy laugh. 

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!! Like I said, we're deathbybellarke over on tumblr. My friend who I run the blog with and I will be posting more one shots and multi-chaptered fics in the future. Leave kudos or comments if you feel so inclined, and thank you for reading!


End file.
